The True Nature of Love
by Maeve's Child
Summary: What is the truth of love after all? Can you really know until you are forced to make those hardest of choices? Post MOTB.
1. Cursed

_This story takes place after MOTB. I've intentionally written in first person and left the female KC vague. You'll notice she doesn't even have a name. That is intentional. Hopefully, if I've done my job, anyone who played a neutral or good leaning female PC will be able to see their character here. You really don't care about what kind of PC I made anyway._

_Although I thought I was finished, when I re-read this, I realized it was a bit rushed and abrubt. in my haste to get the thing finished, I'd left out some good stuff. _

_Each chapter has now been edited and I tried to catch all the typos and mistakes. I am sure there are some still left, but I think it's officially done now._

_I like happy endings. But only when all the baggage is resolved. And I think there was entirely too much left unsaid and undealt with, especially if your female PC chose to romance both Casavir and Gann. How does one deal with the lost of one love and the finding of another, and how does one reconcile love for such different men?_

_Obviously, these characters belong to Obsidian._

_#_

Hmpf.

I set the heavy book down on the table and sighed. It was a copy of "Hordes of the Underdark." Deekin gave me. The binding was garish red leather that Deekin swore was dragon hide. I didn't have the heart to tell him it smelled like an old goat. Deekin meant well, so I could forgive him.

Despite the disjointed way Deekin wrote the story, it was sweet to read. I was especially fond of his description of the love between the hero and the tiefling. It was nice to read about a hero that was a woman like me. It was especially nice to have a happy ending. Of course, Deekin didn''t tell all the details about what happened afterward, but it sounds as if they road off into the sunset together. It was a good story.

My own hadn't turned out that way.

Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I had done the right thing; the moral thing, and taken the Betrayer's place, guarding Kelemvor's realm. But I was too selfish for that. I listened to Gann, and followed him and Safyia back. I think a part of me knew what would happen, but I wanted a happy ending so badly.

I should have known it wouldn't work with him. He slowly changed as we traveled from a selfish, egotistical playboy into something else. And this new person he'd become, like others who'd followed me, Gann turned loyalty to love. I said the words in return, but I'm not sure it was fair. It had only been weeks since I'd learned of Casavir's fate from Ammon. At the Betrayer's Gate, I think I meant it, but my guilt got the best of me. Gann did stay until I was well again. He slept in my chamber and combed my hair and even sang to me in his soft, gravely voice. But once my wounds were healed –– the ones you could see anyway –– he was gone again.

I only saw him once after that. In a dream. A dream walk, more than a dream I suppose. There was that strange _glimmer _to the air that the lucid dreams he'd taught me to walk had that regular dreams didn't. Gann told me he did love me in the dream just as heartfelt as the moments at the gate. But he knew I wasn't ready. He told me he knew he was a pale substitute for a paladin. He told me that if I was ever ready for _him_, not just for comfort, I should look to him in a dream. Then he disappeared into the mist of the dream as softly as he'd disappeared back into the wilds of Rashemen.

Eventually, I returned to Crossroad Keep. I was healthy on the outside, but shattered like glass on the inside. I didn't want the responsibility of the keep, but it was mine and the only home I had left. Luckily for me, Kana was still there and efficiently kept the place running like she had while I was gone. And after all the celebration of the "Knight-Captain's" valiant return, I faded into quiet obscurity and legend.

I was only 30 years old.

I stared into the fireplace across the room, but the fire's despite merry crackling, I felt very, very cold. I closed my eyes and hid my face in my hands.

I thought about Casavir. He'd been my first.

First everything.

I loved him; I worshiped and trusted him. And he died trying to save me. I remembered love when I thought about Casavir. I remembered the moonlight reflected on his tears in his perfectly pale blue eyes when he told me he loved me on the walls of the keep. We'd wasted so much time with fear. For people who'd spent so much time battling horrors and fighting for our lives, it still amazed me that it took us so long to talk to each other. All those nights travelling from one place to the next with his bedroll just far enough away for respectable distance, but always too close for just friendship. We never realized how ridiculous our hesitation was until it was too late.

I couldn't even go up on the walls now. Despite how beautiful the view, and even though the memories should have been good ones, it hurt too much. I could still remember the way he smelled like copper, sweat and incense. I could still feel his gentle, tentative first kiss. I remember feeling so safe, despite the armies of undead at the gates the one night we had together.

Every moment of that one night was branded into my memory. I thought about it more often than was reasonable. But I knew that when it came to Casavir, reason escaped me.

He was gone now. Martyred to save our friends. Now in the halls of Tyr; basking in the glory of his god. I wondered if I had stayed in the upper planes . . . if somehow I would have been able to see him again someday. It kept me awake some nights, imagining what it would be like to see him again. I always pictured him in gleaming silver armor, a blue cloak with Tyr's symbol woven into the threads. Always blowing slightly in a sweet wind that smelled like the scent of incense his aura gave him. I knew better of course. I wasn't among the faithless, but I didn't worship Tyr; I wasn't welcome in his halls. And Casavir could never leave. Not _justly_ anyway. Even love couldn't sway him to break those vows.

I thought of Bishop.

I tried to forget watching him devoured in the Wall of the Faithless. It didn't work; it haunted me. I'd tried so hard to break through to him, but despite it or maybe because of it, he'd betrayed me. In end, he'd refused to fight me, disappearing back into the shadows before we fought Garius. I still sometimes wondered that if only I could have saved him, maybe he could have fought at my side, instead of dying under the rubble alone. If only I would have loved him enough or let him love me.

It was insanity of course. Bishop was always beyond redemption. He'd tried to get under my skin, and he did succeed in that. I was torn for a while between his direct, obvious desire and Casavir's coolness. But then Bishop had tried to _touch _me when I'd made it clear I wasn't ready and only Casavir's good timing stopped him. I hated him for it and all my confusion had melted away and somehow melted Casavir's ice too. I hated Bishop, even thought hurting me wasn't what he'd intended at first. That hatred drove me, until I saw him in the wall. Then I wanted to go back in time. Let him touch me. As if that could have changed him.

It would have made no difference; but I thought about it anyway.

I thought about Elanee. Dead too in the unforgiving rubble and truly my best friend. She'd been like a guardian angel. She watched me all those years. Even though I hadn't known it at the time, she kept me safe when I wandered too deep into the mere, crying when the Mossfeld's called me any one of the plethora of insults they came up with. Their favorite was one about being an orphan with an elf for a father, who, as far as they could see, liked me even less than they did. Or when Lorne rejected me.

Ah Lorne.

I did have fantastic luck with men didn't I?

When I was a girl, twelve or thirteen, Lorne was my first crush. I was his shadow and Bevil was mine. He'd smile at me, or ruffle my hair with his big hands. He'd wink at me from across the way when he'd catch me staring. But then I waited until after Cormick beat him for the Harvest Cup before I was brave enough to talk to him. He'd blown me off without so much as a look.

And then, just a few years later, he tried to kill me. Repeatedly. Until I stuck my sword in his chest.

Apparently, I was cursed.

I was shocked out of my brooding by a sudden banging on the door. I cringed and my heart leapt into my throat. I was jumpy these days.

"Yes?" I said to the closed door.

"Captain?," said the voice on the other side.

"Come in Kana," I answered. I felt a headache coming on. Kana never bothered me unless something truly unpleasant or bizarre needed to be dealt with. I wasn't sure I was up for any more torture today. I'd been torturing myself quite enough, thank you.

She opened the door slowly and stepped in. Her face was more serious than usual.

"I am sorry to disturb you Captain," she said. "But we have a . . . visitor. I know you don't wish to be bothered, but . . . ." She sounded rattled. There was a first time for everything it seemed.

"Who is it?" I sighed. "Another bard?"

"No," she replied. "Its . . . I think you better come see for yourself."

"Well," I said. "This should be interesting."

Kana gestured to the door. "After you, " she said. There was actually fear in her voice. Who in the nine hells could possibly show up at the door strange enough to distress Kana? The woman was a rock. Of course, the same had been said about me. And I startled easily these days.

I walked through the tapestry lined hallway to the door leading from my private wing to the great hall. The deep silence of the stone hall felt oppressive. I suddenly felt claustrophobic, like at any minute the stones might fall and crush me. _I am in dire need of a vacation,_ I thought as I took a deep, shaky breath and pulled the door open. In the middle of the room, on the red and richly patterned rug, a figure in a dark grey cloak crouched on the floor. A hood obscured the man's face, but it was obviously a man by the width of his shoulders and the shape of his body under the threadbare fabric.

Gingerly, I moved to stand in front of him. He didn't stir.

"You wished to see me?" I asked formally.

He didn't speak, but his shoulders trembled a little. Like he was cold; or afraid. I stared at him impatiently. After what seemed like an hour, but was likely just a moment, he lifted his head and the hood of his cloak slid back.

My mouth fell open. My knees melted and I fell on to my hands and knees. _Some hero I am_. I looked up at him and stared.

His eyes were perfectly pale blue.

"Casavir?" I managed to say, just barely a whisper.

"Is that my name?" he asked. He swallowed and his lower lip quivered. "I don't remember."

And for a while after that, neither did I. The Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, slayer of the King of Shadows and SpiritEater; curse breaker and hero, fainted face first on to the floor.


	2. Amnesia

I opened my eyes and stared up at the stone ceiling. The oil lamps cast a golden, flickering light on the stones. From the tone of the light, it felt like it was early evening, although it was hard to tell, since there were no windows. I tried to roll on to my side, but stopped suddenly. I felt like I'd been thrown from a horse; like it was just yesterday that I woke up in that cave outside of Mulsantir. Everything hurt.

"Ah lass, you're a awake," a voice said. "We were worried."

I managed to sit up with a throbbing head as Khelgar wandered over to the bed. It felt like a thousand of Khelgar's clan were in my head, banging at my skull with their hammers. Had I been drinking? Must have been, I'd been having nightmares.

"What are you doing here? Did we have a party or something?" I asked.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He was speaking very quietly. Not like Khelgar at all. He loved to yell when you had a hangover.

"What a strange dream I had," I muttered, rubbing my knuckles against my eyes.

"Lass," he said, still quiet. "It wasn't a dream."

"What?" I shouted entirely too loud. It made my head swim.

"Casavir, " Khelgar said. "It does really seem to be him. Makes me feel like I've been bar brawling too."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat next to him. Khelgar's legs didn't reach the floor from here, but with his gruff voice, and imposing personality, he'd never looked so small to me before. He looked small now however, almost like a child. He patted me on the back gently.

Gently? Khelgar? What the hells was going on here?

"Where . . . how is . . what the hells Khelgar?" I asked. My eyes felt hot.

"I don't know lass, but I think we need to find out," he replied. "I saw him _die. _But he's here, as big as life. And as confused as you are. I don't know how he got here, but I think you need to go see him."

"If he doesn't even know who he is. . . ." I stuttered. "How could he . . . how could he even know to come here?"

"Lass," he sighed. "I don't have any answers. Aldanon is on his way, but I don't know if even he'll have any answers."

"Or if he does, I'll have no idea what in the hells he's talking about," I blurted.

Khelgar chuckled. "That's likely." He paused and gave me a sad, lopsided grin. "Good Luck lass, he's at the room the end of the hall. His old room." With that, Khelgar slid down off the bed and left me sitting there alone, staring at the door like I'd gone mad. After a struggle into a tunic and a ridiculous attempt at brushing the tangles out of my hair, I gathered my courage and headed for the door.

I felt more fear right now than I had when I faced the King of Shadows. But then again, I knew what to do with him. I was good at dealing death. But what I was going to do with this man who was wearing Casavir's face? I had no idea.

I wandered down the hallway to the small bedroom at the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly on the wooden door.

"Come in," the too familiar voice said.

My hands were shaking as I pushed the door open. There he was, sitting on the bed, staring at his hands folded in his lap. His hair was longer, and it fell over his shoulders in black waves. More silver wove through than before. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a while, and thick stubble shaded his gaunt cheeks. He looked up at me.

There was confusion in his eyes. But they were those perfectly pale blue eyes I never thought I'd see again. My legs trembled. Before I could fall, I knelt down as gracefully as I could in front of him.

"What . . . how are you here?" I asked him. 'We all thought you were dead."

He didn't say anything right away. He just stared at me. Tentatively, he reached out and brushed the back of his hand against my cheek. I closed my eyes, blinking away tears.

"You are lovely," he said. "And . . . and you seem so familiar. I feel better seeing you, but I don't know your name."

His words hit as hard as an orc hammer upside the head. Things looked blurry for a moment.

"And until you said it," he continued, "I didn't even know my own. But it sounds right. _Casavir. _That does seem right."

"You don't remember anything?" I asked.

"I remember . . . pain," he said. "I remember feeling so alone until I . . . ." He stopped and looked down at his hands again. Even if he didn't remember, I did. Casavir always looked at his hands when he was nervous.

"Don't," I said, reaching out and lifting his chin so I could meet his eyes. "I know you don't remember, but it took a long time for you to be able to look in my eyes. I don't want to start all over again. You can trust me."

He licked his lips and tried to smile a bit. "That," he said, "I remember. That's why I came here. When I woke up on the road outside of Neverwinter, I knew there was only one place I could go. I don't know how I knew that, when I can't remember anything else. I knew that Neverwinter wasn't my home. But it felt like this place was."

"It is," I said, my voice catching in my throat. "At least, I thought it was going to be once everything was over. But then things didn't go the way I'd planned."

"It looks like you did well," he replied, gesturing to the room. "But then again, for all I know, you might have come from a grander castle than this one."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "My first home was hardly more than a trapper's shack. In a swamp."

Casavir stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. He was searching my face for something familiar. His eyebrows drew together in concentration or pain. Although he'd never been very good at hiding his feelings, there was something different about him now. Yet, it was him, no matter how different. It was still Casavir sitting right in front of me. It took everything I had to not leap up and take him in my arms. But it didn't seem right; or fair to do that to him.

"I remember shadows," he continued, trying very hard to not look away. "Then light. Brilliant light. And I feel . . . I should have been happy there. But I wasn't. Part of me was missing." He paused. "I think you are right."

"About what?" I asked.

"I think I was dead. I remember dying," he said. "But that's all. The rest is blank."

"I don't know what to say," I blurted after a long pause.

"Just tell me what happened. The whole story," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I need to know."

"I'm not sure." His hand felt like it was burning a hole through my tunic. "It's a lot to take in all at once. I don't know if . . . if you could handle it."

"Just go slow," he said. "And don't skip anything."

"I don't even know where to start. I mean, if you don't remember your name . . . I don't even know much about your life before we met," I said and I sadly realized that was true. Other than the little bits and pieces I'd managed to wrench out of him about Old Owl Well and his service to Neverwinter, I really didn't know anything. Not even where he was born. I knew his parents were dead, but I didn't know their names.

"Then start when we met," he said. "I think that's all that matters anyway. I think that's why I'm here and not somewhere else."

"Well then," I said. "It starts with orcs."

#

I'd been talking for hours. By now, I was sitting on the bed next to him, his hands cradled in my lap. My hands were clammy, but he held on tight. He seemed unperturbed by the whole thing. His initial shakiness and confusion seemed to wash away as I spoke, detailing each bloody step from Logram's death to my battle with the Faceless Man, the Betrayer.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered.

"Anything," I replied.

"Can I see your scar?"

I blushed unexpectedly. I remembered the first time Casavir saw my scar. The _only _time he saw it. Considering it ran between my breasts, it wasn't something I showed off. He was looking at me expectantly. It was very strange. Without speaking, I started to unlace the sides of my tunic. My fingers fumbled around like I'd forgot how to work a knot. I wriggled it off over my head and set it on the bed beside me in a crumpled ball. It took all of my courage not to try to cover myself with my hands. But then again, even if he didn't remember, I knew he'd seen the sights before. I looked up and Casavir was starting at me. Unflinching.

I _was_ blushing, but he wasn't.

That was probably more shocking than my half nudity. He blushed when I told him about Bevil and me in the hayloft as kids that night we camped outside of Ember. He blushed when I kissed him at the Ruins of Ahrvan to shut Bishop up. And now, I was half naked and he looked cool as ice.

He reached out and traced his finger delicately down the puckered flesh of my scar, but gently, taking care not to touch anything but the scar. His eyes traced the scar as well, but didn't roam. Not at first anyway. My blush spread from my cheeks, down my neck and on to my chest, making the white flesh of the scar stand out even more.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, meeting my eyes finally.

"Not any more," I replied. Even my ears were hot now. Casavir continued to trace up and down the scar with his finger.

"Wait . . . ," he said, his finger stopping abruptly, right between my breasts. " Wait, I think . . . I think . . . ."

"You think what?" I asked. A slow smile spread across his face. Almost a smirk. I'd never seen that look on his face before.

It almost didn't look like Casavir sitting there; just some scruffy, but handsome stray I found. There was a part of me that realized something was terribly, terribly wrong here. This man with the perfectly blue eyes was certainly in Casavir's body. But I wasn't sure it was really _Casavir_, at least not the paladin I knew, inside of there.

"I think, I don't need to remember, to know why I loved you. Why I still love you," he said as he leaned towards me, pushing my shoulders down against the bed. His lips brushed against mine. I expected the same soft kisses I knew from my memories, but that's not what I got. He kissed me so hard, my lips felt bruised. But I didn't mind. He could have drawn blood and I would have only pulled him closer.

I didn't worry about who he was for a while. It was Casavir's familiar body. Right now, that was enough.


	3. Before and After

I dreamed.

It was a familiar place, this dreamscape. I'd walked it often enough with Gann that it was a second home. Often it took the form of that inner sanctum of my soul were I fought Akachi. But without his hungry presence, it was a peaceful place. I took a deep breath, reveling in the soothing aura of my sacred space.

"My love," said a voice behind me. "It is good to see you again."

I turned to see Gannayev standing quietly beside me. He looked as he always did in the dreamworld, and I realized he rarely altered himself here. Not like so many others. Despite what had happened between us, Gann was healed in many ways.

I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful he was.

"Gann," I said. "It is good to see you."

"Ah, but I see you are conflicted. In pain," he replied. He cocked his head to the side and his long silvery blue hair swept away from his face. "Otherwise I would not have known to come here. We are still linked, you and I."

"I know," I said, looking at the smooth, featureless ground. "I have failed you in that I think."

"No," he said, reaching out. He tilted my chin up to meet his emerald eyes. "Do not look away. I _do_ love you. That is why I left. It is not a failure to be honest with yourself."

"I suppose not," I replied.

"But why has your dream called me here?" he asked.

"Casavir." His name hung in the air. Gann's voice seemed to catch in his throat, and he stayed silent.

"He's returned to Crossroad Keep. Somehow he's cheated death," I finally said.

"You have, so I know it is not impossible. Although I didn't know there was another in the Realms who had your will," Gann spoke quietly.

"But that's the thing," I said. "Casavir followed the _rules_, the laws. I don't understand how he would have broken the laws of gods as I did.."

"Love is a terrible thing," Gann said. His eyes glistened. "But I am happy for you. It is all I have wanted; to see you happy."

"I . . . I don't know if I am. The man that has returned, he has Casavir's face, but he doesn't remember anything. And he seems . . . hollowed out somehow." Gann brushed his hair out of his eyes, wiping them with the back of his hand.

"That is something to _fear_, my love," he said. "That hollowness is something you know well."

Slowly, Gann began to fade. I reached out for him, but my hands met only empty air.

"Wait Gann," I whispered. "I . . . miss you." I was only met by silence. And then the sounds of birds began to break through the hushed silence of my sanctum.

I opened my eyes and woke. I was alone in the bed. I sat up suddenly, my heart pounding.

"Casavir?" I called, but there was no response. I tumbled from the bed and managed to find my discarded tunic and rushed out the door. I ran down the hall, wildly. I flung open the door to the hall and the sound of laughter rushed over me.

Khelgar raised his mug and banged it against Casavir's, the foam sloshing out over his callused hand. Casavir's back was turned to the open door. He had his now long hair tied into a tail at the back of his neck.

"I'd not known you to be one to drink," Khelgar said to Casavir. "I think I like this new you." He laughed again and took a drink. Casavir joined him, downing his mug of ale in one gulp.

"That's the way you do it lad!" Khelgar cheered.

I leaned against the door frame to catch my breath when Khelgar noticed me standing there.

"Ah lass," he said, "Come join us." At his words, Casavir turned to face me. He'd shaved away the stubble. His blue eyes shone out of his smiling eyes like brilliant blue topaz. He strode toward me and grabbed me roughly, kissing me. His lips tasted of ale.

"Good Morning," he whispered into my ear. Reluctantly, he released me.

"What's going on?" I murmured, even more breathless from his kiss.

Khelgar chuckled. "The breakfast of heros and tavern brawlers alike lass!"

"Khelgar says I didn't drink . . . before," Casavir said, raising one of his angular eyebrows.

"Not often. Some wine at times, but never ale for breakfast," I said, smiling. The smile didn't quite reach my eyes, but Casavir didn't seem to notice.

"Well. This is certainly more fun," he replied.

"Fun?" Khelgar roared. "You weren't much for _that_ before either lad. I definitely like you better now!" I tried to laugh along, but it sounded empty.

"What about you?" Casavir asked. "Do you like me better now?"

Unable to answer, I kissed him softly on his now smooth cheek. "I need to get dressed," I said. "You boys have fun." And then I escaped back down the hallway. I swiftly passed the room I'd shared with Casavir last night and continued to my suite at the end of the hall. I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, leaning against the heavy wooden door.

"What in the hells is wrong with him?" I asked myself. Shaking my head to clear it, I began to wash and dress in silence.

Once I felt presentable, instead of returning to the hall, I snuck around through one of the many secret ways of the keep and hurried to the library where Aldanon was sure to be. As I'd hoped, the old sage was bent over a book at the table in the middle of the room when I stepped out from behind the false bookcase.

"Aldanon," I said.

"Ah yes . . my friend!" he replied. "You should be so pleased. You're one of the few I don't seem to forget, even when my mind wanders!"

I grinned. "That's certainly something."

"It is, it is! But come, sit down and tell me what is happening? What this about a dead paladin coming back from the dead?" he asked.

Slowly, repeating the important parts so Aldanon could ponder them, I explained. Even sharing the part about Gann's visit in my dream.

"If the hagspawn came, you must be very troubled," Aldanon said at last. "The Dreamer's Heart is powerful, but he'd promised not to bother you unless he needed to."

"I am troubled," my voice verged on tears. "I wanted Casavir back so badly, but I wanted _him_ and I don't know who this person is!"

"I have a theory," Aldanon said. "Take him to the temple of Tyr in the courtyard. That'll tell us much."

"Tell us what?" I asked. But Aldanon was back into his book and he ignored me. Sighing, I walked to the door to the hall. I stared at the knob for a moment, like it might burn me.

_I've battled demons, the King of Shadows and Unending Hunger. I should be able to deal with a man in my house. Of course, I was always better at destroying than repairing. It's my curse, I suppose. _

I opened the door.

Khelgar and Casavir were sitting on the stone floor leaning against the wall. Khelgar was recounting a tale of a particularly bloody tavern brawl and Casavir was listening intently. Rapt. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps.

"Ah," he said, rising to his feet and striding across the hall in a few steps of his long legs. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. I could feel he was indeed pleased to see me.

"You clean up nicely," he said, kissing my neck. He looked me in a eyes for a moment – we were the same height after all. But then his eyes clouded, seeing the pained look on my face and he stepped back.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm making you uncomfortable."

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I just . . . I . . ." I stammered.

Khelgar coughed. "I'm not sure I want to see this," he laughed.

"Nothing to see," Casavir said, turning away. I stared hard at his back for a moment, gathering the courage to speak.

"I want to go to the temple," I said finally, as Casavir turned back to look at me. "And I want you to come with me."

"What temple?" Casavir asked.

"The Temple of Tyr, of course," Khelgar chimed in before I could speak. "She had the eyesore built for you after all." Khelgar's voice was bitter. He'd never quite gotten over his choice not to join their order.

"Yes," I said. "Tyr's temple. You are . . . were . . . a paladin of Tyr after all."

Casavir snorted. "Eh, that seems hard to believe. But we'll see. After you my lady." He bowed and swept his arm toward the door. His every move dripped with sarcasm. It reminded me unpleasantly of Bishop. I suppressed a shudder and led him out the door and into the courtyard where the temple loomed like a stone golem.

I rarely went there. I wasn't a follower of Tyr, but I understood Tyr's justice well. Once, a paladin had taught me. Now a man called Casavir that wore that same paladin's face, and shuffled reluctantly behind me. He hesitated to cross the threshold into the cavern of the temple.

The temple was quiet, as always. High Priest Ivarr was not there, but several acolytes, clerics and paladins in training, were milling about the altar. There were more young ones in training here than in most Tyrran temples. The valiant paladin who gave his life for Neverwinter, who'd once knelt at this altar, was a big draw.

One of them looked up and recognized Casavir immediately. Certainly, this young man had never known Casavir in life, but a huge painting of him hung in their training halls like a shrine to the paladin many had come to think of as an embodiment of the best of their order.

"My lord paladin!" the young man shouted, breaking the eerie silence. The acolyte fell to his knees at Casavir's feet. "Great Tyr has honored us for you to return from the Triad!"

"What . . . in the hells . . . are you doing?" Casavir asked. He sounded angry. I looked over at him and watched as a vein pulsed in his forehead. I'd only seen _that_ particular reaction when he used to spar words with Bishop.

The acolyte looked confused and suddenly frightened. "I . . . I . . . , " he stammered. "Have I confused you for someone else?" the young man asked.

"No, you haven't," I replied. "Not entirely any way." Casavir glared at me, but kept his tongue. "Please fetch Ivarr, if you would."

"He is away, my Lady," he stuttered. "But Hlam has come to watch over us and the temple while he is away."

"Hlam," I said. "That's even better. Please, ask him if he will see us."

"I know that you said I was a paladin," Casavir asked as the acolyte scurried away. "But why would he bow to me?"

"You're a legend to them," I said. "Your story is probably why he's here."

"That's very strange . . . and unpleasant somehow. Why would someone want to follow the path of a fool who sacrificed himself?"

"Some say it's the highest calling, the best end, to die for your god. You told me that yourself," I said.

"Hmpf," he snorted. "Not likely."

"I thought my acolyte had lost his mind," Hlam said in his even measured speech. His voice reminded me of the was Casavir used to speak . . . before.

"But I see he has not," Hlam continued. "It is very good to see you again Lord Paladin."

"Oh hells, I wish you people wouldn't call me that," Casavir snapped. "I don't know who this damned paladin of yours was, but he's still dead under those rocks. I don't know anything about any _Lord Paladin_ and I certainly wouldn't worship any god that asked me to die, smashed into jelly under a ton of rocks. To the hells with this." He whipped around to look at me. "I don't know how it's possible, but I _love_ you lady. As strange as that seems. But even love won't keep me in this _tomb_ any longer. I will see you back at the keep." Without another word, he spun around and nearly ran out the door, pausing for just a moment in the doorway, his form silhouetted against the bright sky. Then he stalked away, the door slamming shut behind him.

"I don't know what's wrong with him Hlam," I said, my words dissolving into tears and I knelt at Hlam's feet. "Please help me, help him!" I sobbed into my hands. Hlam knelt down beside me and placed his warm hand on my shoulder.

"I know of no divine invocation to heal the loss of faith, my lady," he said softly. "For surely that is what has happened to Casavir. Whatever grace Tyr had bestowed upon him, it is gone."

"Gone?" I asked, my voice still choked with tears. "How is that possible?"

"Only by his own choice lady," Hlam replied. "And I knew Casavir well. Only if he felt he had a greater vow left unfulfilled would he abandon Tyr and the House of the Triad to return to this plane after death claimed him."

"How can I save him? Heal him?" I asked.

"I don't know how," Hlam replied. "Only Tyr can say."


	4. A Vow Unfulfilled

"Please Aldanon," I sighed. "Explain it to me again. Slowly. And try to use common. Pretend I'm an idiot if you have to. Because I just don't understand."

Aldanon shook his head. "You're not an idiot my friend, don't be foolish. But as you will, I'll explain again."

"Thank you," I said, biting my tongue from the stream of frustrated profanity that threatened to spill out.

"If you can find what this vow is," Aldanon continued. "Whatever it is that this dead paladin thinks he's left undone, and help him fulfill his vow, you should be able to help him reconnect with his faith, his god, in some place that is important to him."

"Why didn't you just say so before?" I asked, frustrated.

"I did," Aldanon replied. "But let me finish. Ahem. As I was saying . . . I am sure this vow has something to do with you, or he wouldn't be here. And as far as finding out what this vow is, I think you know the best way to delve deep. The same way you touched the memories of that Akachi fellow."

"His dreams," I muttered.

"Exactly. And you've done some dream walking, yes? So that shouldn't be a problem." Aldanon looked pleased with himself. "It's a simple answer, yes?"

"No, it's not," I spat. Aldanon looked confused.

"Do I have to explain it again?" he asked.

"No." I sighed. "I understand now. But I've never managed to walk in someone else's dream without help."

"Well," Aldanon said, "You know where that help can be found."

"Only if I want to break someone's heart," I answered quietly.

"That's the least of the unpleasantness I'm afraid. There is one more thing that I need to tell you." Aldanon's face was unusually grave.

"What's that?"

"If you do this, fulfill the vow and reconnect the dead paladin with his god again, he'll be just that . . . a dead paladin."

"What do you mean?" I shouted, not meaning to, as a chill ran down my spine.

"He broke Tyr's rules to return to the Prime. Tyr will only truly forgive him if he returns back to the House of the Triad. You need to be a planar, or dead, to visit there and not break any of the gods' rules," Aldanon explained.

"Oh hells," I whispered. "This just keeps getting better."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, there's those fascinating Thayan books you've brought for me that need my attention," Aldanon said.

"Of course," I said. "And Aldanon?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the help. Even if I don't like the answer."

"Any time my friend," he said, shooing me away. "Now out!"

Only Aldanon could chase me out of my own library. I wandered into the hall, and set to pacing. The Greycloak guards ignored me. Kana had them on a tight leash, and I was glad for it.

_I am damnably CURSED. _

_The last weeks had been so sweet, when I could put out of my mind what was happening. When I was alone with Casavir, he'd have flashes, little moments of being himself again. I deluded myself into thinking he would get better; remember. But I knew better all along. How could I ignore the constant drinking and fighting? The pain in his eyes when he walked past the temple, like the place was going to reach out and grab him._

_So I have a choice. I can heal Casavir, save him from eternal punishment in the City of Judgement. If he was lucky, he'll be judged false. But more likely, there'd be a spot for him in the Wall of the Faithless next to Bishop. Or what's left of Bishop anyway._

_And to do it, I have to beg Gann for help. Then I get to watch his heart break as we dig around in Casavir's dreams._

_Or, I can be selfish. Again. Keep this new Casavir for myself, but know that he'll suffer eternal for one lifetime of love. Love of a sort anyway. He wasn't really Casavir any more. If I'd met him like this, I probably would have liked him more. But loved him more? I doubted it._

_Hmpf. The old Casavir thought HE had conflicts._

My recrimination was cut short by Neeshka bursting through the doors.

"You have to get down to the Phoenix, RIGHT NOW!" she shrieked.

"Neeshka? When did you get here? What's going . . . , " I started to ask.

"Later," she said, grabbing my wrist. "Casavir's going to kill him if you don't stop him!"

Without more questions, I let her drag me down the hill to the Phoenix Tail Inn at the base of the hill. She flung open the door and pushed me through.

"You have to stop him!" she said, pushing me forward.

A crowd had gathered. Despite his love of a good brawl, even Khelgar looked pale. Casavir had Sal pinned to the ground. He had one knee on the innkeeper's chest, and a kitchen knife to his throat. Sal's face was completely drained of color and he struggled for breath.

"I didn't mean it," Sal stammered breathlessly. "I'll call you whatever you want."

"I swore," Casavir growled. "The next person to call me _Lord Paladin_ was going to eat those damned words."

"Casavir!" I screamed, rushing forward. "What in the nine hells are you doing!?"

He didn't look up. "Teaching this _offal _a lesson he won't forget," he said between clenched teeth.

I tried to grab his shoulder, but he jerked back, sending my hand flying. I glanced back at Neeshka, first at her face, then down to her boot where I knew she hid a dagger. Her eyes widened for a moment when she realized what I wanted. Silently, she slid her dagger from the top of her boot and handed it to me. I slithered forward and slipped the blade against Casavir's throat.

"My love," I whispered into his ear. "Would you kindly get the hells off my innkeeper?"

Gingerly, he raised the knife from Sal's throat and let it clatter to the floor. His shoulders slumped. I withdrew the blade and stepped back, giving him room to stand up. Casavir looked at his hands. Some things about him were still the same.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just so angry." His voice cracked, like he would cry.

"Come on," I said, taking his hand. "Let's get out of here." As I led him out the door, I glanced at Neeshka and she nodded, rushing over to help Sal sit up and catch his breath.

Casavir followed me back up the hill silently. His feet crunched on the gravel, and I could hear whispers as the story of what had just happened sped through the keep like wildfire. Without speaking, I led him through the doors and down the hall to my suite. He sat on the bed as I closed the door behind us. I turned to look at him, and I could tell he could see what I wanted to ask. Again, he stared at his hands.

"I don't know what the hells is wrong with me," he said softly. He looked up at me with red rimmed eyes. "If I was a paladin, I . . . I think I would be a better man. I wouldn't feel so angry, so out of control. It's like I'm a wild beast sometimes." He paused and swallowed. "I've been drinking all day, hells, who am I kidding? Every day since I visited the temple. I thought maybe enough ale would wash away the bitterness of that place. But it only made me more angry. And when Sal made a joke, called me_ Lord Paladin_ I just snapped."

I sat next to him on the edge of the bed. Close, but not quite touching.

"And I still damnably can't remember anything. Except . . . except you. And loving you. Everything else feels like its at the bottom of a well and I can't reach it."

"I know," I said, reaching out to take his hands in mine. "But I can help you. If you'll let me."

"I think only you can," he said. "I think that's why I only _know_ you, and not even myself."

"Then just be patient," I said. "I'll need to get some help myself first. Now, lay down, I think you need to sleep this off before you do anything else."

"You're right," he said, starting to unlace his boots with stumbling fingers. "I can't even see straight." I slid down onto the floor and helped him with the laces, pulling his boots off one by one.

"You've helped me with this before," he said. "But my boots . . . they were . . . covered with plate armor, weren't they?"

"Yes, they were. You were the first throw yourself into battle, and you'd usually use up your healing spells on the rest of us. At the end of some of those fights, you could hardly move," I told him. "So I always helped you with your boots. It also served to irritate Bishop, which I know I always enjoyed."

"I didn't enjoy it," he said quietly. "I hated him, but I wanted to redeem him, if I could."

"What?" I asked, shocked by the familiar, measured tone of his speech; The tone that had been lacking since his return.

"I really was a paladin, wasn't I?" he asked me, as he laid back and his eyes slid shut. "How . . . strange."

"Yes, my love, you were," I whispered. He fell asleep almost instantly, but I stayed awake for a while, studying his sleeping face. I ran my hand along the hard edges of his cheeks, slipping my fingers into the silver threads of hair at his temples.

"I don't have a choice," I whispered. "I'll have to let you go, to save you. But not tonight. One more night . . . ." I slid down on the bed next to him and tucked my head against his neck, breathing in his smell. Copper and sweat. But the incense and his soothing aura was gone.

_Much that made you what you are is gone. Your heart is still the same, there's no denying that. But that quiet strength, your faith . . . that unshakable faith . . . is gone. Ah, still the endearing vulnerability, but when tempered with anger instead of duty, you seem like . . . like Bishop. Like the world has done you a great wrong and there is nothing you could have done to stop it. _I shuddered. Perhaps that was what I knew all along and why I tried so hard to help Bishop. I tried to calm myself by listening to the sounds of Casavir's breath as he drifted off to sleep. _There but for the grace of the gods, go I,_ I pondered. _I will make this right somehow. I will do whatever it takes. Because I love you, no matter what you've become._

#

Gann was waiting for me when I stepped into my dreams. His hair was tied into a braid hanging over his shoulder and his fur cloak hung on his back. His pack was slung over one shoulder, and he'd switched his soft leather boots for hard soled ones. Traveling boots.

"How did you know?" I asked him. "No, never mind. I already know the answer to that. I just don't understand how you could still . . . ."

"Love you?" he said, finishing my thought. "Believe me, I am not sure I would if I actually had a choice in the matter. But that is how love works, is it not?"

"So it seems," I said. "How long before you arrive?"

"A few more days only," Gann said. "I had the uncontrollable urge to come since our last dream. So I packed my things and headed out."

"You are a wonder, Gann-of-Dreams," I said, as he started to fade away.

"Maybe . . . some day," his voice echoing in my head, "You will mean that."


	5. City of Judgement

The next few days passed in a blur. I knew that once Gann arrived, there would be no more hiding from it. I'd finally have to do what was right. But until then, I got the chance that so many never get. I got to say the things I knew I'd regret not saying. I shared the stories of my childhood and said murmured words of love against Casavir's sweat soaked flesh when he made love to me. Despite being so different from the man I once knew, there were so many small things that were the same; I let myself forget the inevitable end to come.

Casavir lay on his back beside me in the soft grass behind the inn. I was propped on one elbow, spinning blades of grass between my fingers.

We'd been sparring in the dust before and a crowd had gathered to watch. No one called him _Lord Paladin_ after the incident with Sal, but no one could deny his skill with a blade. His body remembered, even if his head didn't.

"It's odd," he mused, staring up at the leaves of the overhanging tree. I watched with a gaze nearing reverence as the dappled sunlight danced across his face. "It feels so comfortable with a weapon in my hand, like I've had a lifetime of it."

"You did," I said. "You were always handy to have around in a fight." He laughed.

"I think I would have been, if I was everything you've told me I was," he said. Quieter now, he continued, "I just wish I could be that way again. For you any way." He rolled over on to his side and looked at me. "Because I know you really love who I used to be, not who I am now."

"Casavir," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "I love _you_, even if you aren't quite what I remember."

"I know you try. But I see it in your eyes sometimes, after I've had one of my 'moments' of memory. You look crushed when I don't continue. I may seem broken, and I suppose I am, but I'm not blind." His eyes bore into me and I had to look away.

"I . . . I have to tell you something," I finally managed to stutter. "And now's as good a time as any."

"I expected something was coming," he said. "Love or not, you hold me so tightly at night; like you're afraid I'm going to disappear. Not that I mind, but its worried me."

"Do you remember when I told you about Gannayev?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, reaching out to tangle his fingers through mine.

"There's more to that story than I told you," I said.

"I suspected," he said, forcing a half smile. "Go on."

"I thought I'd lost everything then. I was alone in an unfamiliar place, hollowed out inside. Like I'm sure you feel sometimes. But with an unending _hunger_ for something to fill me. I knew it was the spirit-eater in me making me feel that way. But it was more than that. The shard was gone, my purpose was gone, except for self-preservation. More than once, Gann stepped in to save my life. I was more grateful to him than you know." I took a shaky breath and continued. "When I met Ammon in the Academy in Thay and he told me you had died, I felt like the last threads of my old life had become unraveled. I fell apart for a while, until Gann caught me."

"You love him, don't you?" Casavir asked.

"Yes, I suppose I do," I said. "But it was a different kind of love than I have for you. Gann didn't want to die for me, like you did."

"I did manage to do that," Casavir interjected, another half smile on his face. This one contrasted with the pain in his eyes.

"You did. But Gann wanted to live for me, or so he said. He told me I'd healed wounds he'd had all his life. Before we entered the Betrayer's Gate, he told me I was more a healer of spirits than an eater of spirits. He told me he loved me. And something happened. In Rashamen, they call it the Dreamer's Heart. It's a permanent blending of personalities and minds. Ever since, if I wish it, he'll appear to me in my dreams."

"Why isn't he with you then?" Casavir asked. "How could he love you so dearly, and then let you go?"

"That's exactly why he hasn't been here. I couldn't get over my guilt that you had died, alone under a ton of ancient rock so I could just love someone else and forget you. Gann told me he was a pale substitute for a paladin," I said. My eyes felt swollen and hot. But no tears, I was fighting them valiantly.

"So am I," he said. "A pale substitute for a paladin is exactly what I've become."

I looked at him, trying to find the words to disagree with him. A dozen arguments died before they reached my lips. He was right.

"Don't bother trying to find something nice to say," he said, sitting up. "I know what I am."

"It's not just that," I finally managed to spit out. "It gets worse."

"Oh great. I can't wait," he said, turning to face me and crossing his legs. I sat up, feeling awkward.

"I've been to the City of Judgement; I've seen the Wall of the Faithless. And Akachi, the spirit-eater was inside of me. He's the embodiment of the hunger of that wall. It's more horrible than you can even imagine. I told you what happened to Bishop. As it stands, when you die, its likely you'll join him," I said, putting my hand on his knee. "I can't just let that happen."

Casavir brushed my hand away. "So are you going to make me go to the temple like a good like little paladin until I learn my lessons? Then I'll just be judged false and have some other hideous, arbitrary punishment."

"No," I said. "But I think I can fill that hollowness you feel, if you'll let me. Help you find yourself again."

"So you can have your _Lord Paladin_, Sir-stick-up-his-arse back? And I can just disappear?" He leapt to his feet and glared down at me.

I rose to meet him, then reached out my hand. He bristled.

"Casavir," I whispered. "Please, listen to me." He stared at me, a muscle twitching in his jaw. All I could do was look at him and hope he could see in my eyes that all I wanted was to help him.

His shoulders slumped as his anger drained away. Gently, he took my hand.

"I'm sorry," he said. He paused and added darkly, "I've had to say that a lot lately."

"I just want to help you," I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper. "I love you as you are too, but I don't want to damn you for eternity for that. You'll just have to trust, that what is going to happen, that I'm doing it for you."

"I do trust you," he said.

"Then please hear me out. Soon, Gann is going to walk through the gates of Crossroad Keep. He's coming here to help me; us. Gann is a dream walker. If you'll let us, we can find your lost memories in your dreams, find out why you're here and what's happened to you. It'll go much easier with your permission."

"I'm not sure I like it, but I know you're right," he said. "I don't feel like a whole person most of the time. And as sweet as they are, nights in your arms aren't enough to fill the empty space in me."

"I know they aren't," I said. We were silent for a moment, both staring at our interlinked hands. Finally, Casavir looked up and grinned.

"This Gann," Casavir said, "He's a hagspawn? I've heard they're pretty ugly. Didn't imagine that'd be your type"

"Yes, he's a hagspawn, but not the kind you've heard of. Honestly, I think he's one of a kind. His mother was a night hag, and she loved his father. That changes everything." I explained.

"So what does that mean? No tusks and bad temper?" he asked, mockingly.

"No tusks," I said. "And no green skin."

"I'm more of a blue-violet," a voice said from behind us. "And no bad temper, just impeccable timing."

I closed my eyes and smirked, hoping Casavir wouldn't notice. "Gann. You're early."

"The wind was at my back," Gann said, "It bodes well."

I turned to look at him and my heart leapt a little. His hair had come partially free of it's braid and strands of the silvery blue silk framed his face like a halo. Traveling seemed to agree with him.

"Ah," Gann said, still looking at me, "This must be Casavir. Well met friend. It is a wonder of a man to capture this one's heart so surely," he said. "I must admit, I am a bit jealous."

Gann extended his hand to Casavir and they grasped each other's wrists.

"I could say the same to you," Casavir said.

Gann cocked his head. "For a time perhaps, but that is not why I am here, to my disappointment."

Unexpectedly, Casavir laughed.


	6. Dreamer's Heart

"That's it," I said. "All you need to do is go to sleep."

"It'll be strange," Casavir said, leaning back against the pillow. "I haven't slept alone for as long as I can remember, but of course, that's not very long." He laughed nervously at his own joke.

"Don't be afraid," I said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, "I'll be there with you."

"I know, that what I'm afraid of," he said, his eyes closing. "It's weird in here."

I grinned. "I know how that feels."

I watched him for a while, his black and silver hair spilled out on the pillow. I studied his face; the sharp planes, the hollows under his cheekbones, the delicate blue veins in his eyelids. In time his breathing became slow and regular. The potion had done its job. He was asleep.

As quietly as I could, I stood and walked towards the door. Casavir moaned softly and rolled over as I closed the door behind me. Gann stood in the hallway, his blue skin lit orange by the flickering lamplight. He didn't speak, but gestured to the door down the hall. I followed him, watching the patterns of shadow and light weaving themselves through his hair.

He opened the door to the room and I followed, still silent. I padded across the blue green rug and sat on the edge of the bed. Gann closed the door softly and sat next to me.

"Are you committed to this then?" he asked.

"That sounds a familiar question," I mused. "But I doubt this is quite as dire as walking into the fugue plane."

Gann was deadly serious. "It will likely be as painful. For both of us."

"I am so sorry to do this to you," I whispered.

"I am doing this out of love," he said, his eyes piercing into me. "I am willing."

I handed him the tiny potion bottle. It was easier this way. Just like Casavir had done, Gann grimly pulled the stopper and sipped the sickly sweet liquid. He held the bottle out to me and I took it. I drank, oddly aware that Gann's lips had just touched it.

I scooted up on to the bed and laid my head on the pillow. I turned on to my side, as Gann laid down beside me. He took my hand and pressed it to his lips. "Close your eyes," he said, "And open your dreamer's eye." He continued to speak, soft, unintelligible words as the world faded away.

#

I opened my eyes to the swirl of battle. Gann stood beside me, my hand still clasped in his. Spells fired all around us, and I could hear the singing of the Sword of Gith. I turned to see . . . me. Wildly, I swung the sword at the swirling black portal as my companions found the King of Shadows again and again, with sword and spell.

Suddenly, there was a concussion of sound and the portal collapsed. I saw myself swing around and with all my strength, plunge the sword into the blackness of shadows. The King of Shadows turned to brilliant light and dissolved back into the Weave.

Just as suddenly, the stones began to crack. A portal flared to life at my back, and hideous gargoyle talons reached through, grabbing me and pulling me in. Ammon leapt to me and followed me through just as the portal shimmered and disappeared.

"My lady!" Casavir shouted over the din, seeing the portal shimmer away. "No!"

The dreamscape was plunged into darkness.

Slowly, the light returned, and again we were deep in the Illefarn ruins. This time, in the burial chamber at the heart of the Temple of Seasons. Another memory, and a hurtful one. Shandra stood next to me on one side, Casavir on the other. An eerie silence hung in the air and although he was leaning disrespectfully against an ancient sarcophagus, even Bishop was quiet, for the moment anyway.

"If I fall," Casavir said, "I wish to be buried here. I have many questions for those that lay here."

I saw myself reach over and take his hand. He looked over at me and I nodded solemnly. We didn't speak, but some words did not need to be spoken.

"We couldn't find your body," I whispered. Gann squeezed my hand.

The temple faded away, like twilight fading to night.

The walls of Crossroad Keep swirled into view, the brightness of Selûne hanging low in the sky casting deep shadows. Casavir stood stoically, my hands clasped in his. I took a step forward, knowing what was next, wishing with all my heart that I could step back into this memory.

"You have my sword, and my heart. Nothing can stand against us when we are together, in this life, or the next," he said, pulling me close. I could feel the coldness of his armor against my face as clearly as the first time, even though I could only watch. Gann squeezed my hand, feeling me slipping into the dream and out of the dream walk.

"Stay with me," he whispered. "Else you get lost in his pain as well." Heeding his words, I took a step back.

I watched closely, and saw Casavir's lips move. He spoke and I hadn't heard him on the wall that night over the sound of my own pounding heart.

"This I vow to you," Casavir whispered, nearly silently, "I will never let you go, unless you wish it of me."

Again, the scene faded to black. A sob escaped my throat.

#

I woke with tears in my eyes and on my face. Gann's hand was still clutched in mine, pressed through cloth to the scar on my chest. Right over my heart. With his free hand, he gently wiped the tears from my face.

He didn't speak. He didn't ask if I was alright, because I clearly wasn't. I didn't ask him if he knew how this felt . . . Gann already did. He'd left me, let me go, out of love. Which was exactly what I needed to do for Casavir now.

The dream spelled it out in perfect order. Casavir fell, died, and left me when I did not want him to. To set things right, I had to return with him to the Temple of Seasons in Ahrvan and tell him that I wished him to go on without me. And mean it.

I began to cry in earnest again. The pain of it was nearly too much to bear.

Still silent, Gann pulled me against him and let me sob into his chest. As I finally cried away all my tears, and quieted. I could hear his heart beating. Feverishly.

"Oh Gann," I whispered. "How can you stand it?"

He sighed into my hair. "I do it, because I have to. Selfish as I am, it is the only thing I can do."

I pulled away and looked up at him. His eyes glittered in the half light with tears. I tried desperately, but couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Go to him," he said. "Because tomorrow, we should gather your remaining companions and go to this Temple from the dream. You _know_ it has to be done. "

I nodded, still unable to speak and awed by the compassion in Gann's eyes. He was not the same man I'd recruited from his prison cell in Mulsantir. Stumbling, I crawled from the bed and walked to the door. As I opened it, I turned around. Gann lay there, quietly watching me leave him.

Again.

"I think whatever selfishness you had, you left in behind in Coveya Kurg'annis, under the waves," I said as I closed the door behind me. I could hear Gann stifle a sob through the wooden door. A part of me wanted to go back in, to comfort him. But that would not have brought him any comfort. Only more pain. All I could do now, was as he said. Go to Casavir, and not waste the few precious moments we had left.

Casavir was still asleep, deep in the grasp of the sleep potion and his nightmares. I curled up behind him and wrapped my arm around his narrow waist. He unconsciously took my hand and pulled me closer. Listening to his slow, even breaths, I fell asleep and thankfully, didn't dream.


	7. The Temple of the Seasons

Not surprisingly, Neeshka and Khelgar were packed for traveling before I even had a chance to explain. After our dreaming, Gann slipped down to the Phoenix and had Sal make a room for him. Despite huge differences in personality, he'd quickly found comradery with my old companions and he'd told them everything. At least everything they needed to know.

I was always amazed by their loyalty to me, and to Casavir. We were all so different, but the horrors we had shared had made an unshakable bond between us. I was going to need all their strength in the days to come.

Casavir packed without questioning. I think he could see by the look in my eyes that what was coming had to be done. Just as the hunger of Akachi drove me in Rashemen, his emptiness was becoming more than he could bear. He'd tried to drown it in ale, and mete it out in fighting, but there was no escaping it.

While my companions waited for me at the gates, I went to the Temple of Tyr.

Hlam had stayed on, and when I walked in, he was knelt in prayer at the altar. He didn't look up, but I could feel that he sensed my presence as I walked towards him. I knelt down beside him, saying a silent prayer before looking up to find him staring at me.

"I have heard what you intend to do," he said quietly. "And it is a great sacrifice. But a just one."

"I don't feel like I have any other choice, " I replied, equally as soft.

"I have been thinking much on this," Hlam continued. "And I feel I should tell you what thoughts have come to me."

"I may not follow Tyr's path, but I always welcome your council," I said.

"When I explained that the grace of Tyr had left Casavir, I was only partially correct. It seems, that the man with us now is who he would have become if he had never had Tyr's guidance."

I looked up at the massive statue of Tyr over the altar and stared at it as Hlam continued.

"I knew Casavir well. He was always a passionate and troubled soul, longing to right the injustices he saw around him. It pained him much to see the defenseless suffer. His passion, and his conflicts were not a product of Tyr. Tyr's path simply gave him a place to funnel his passion. Tyr gave him purpose in what otherwise may have been a short life, full of the behaviors you have seen from him of late. Even with _your_ guidance, you can see that his troubles only grow. Without restoring him to Tyr, you will lose him anyway, in time."

"I know," I said, still staring at Tyr's benevolent, yet fierce face carved into the grey marble. "But that doesn't make this any easier."

"What is just is rarely easy," Hlam replied. "But I know that despite his flaws, and his desire to redeem those beyond redemption, he was a grand judge of character. He did not give his heart away lightly."

"Thank you," I said, finally turning to look at him. He smiled at me sadly.

"May Tyr guide your steps," he said as he stood and offered me his hand.

I let him help me to me feet and replied, "And yours."

#

The path to Ahrvan was long. I was used to traveling, and so were the others, and in time, we seemed to forget what lay ahead. Khelgar and Neeshka set to bickering, and to my amazement, Casavir and Gann walked side by side, talking and laughing, usually just too softly for me to hear. I trailed behind often, watching them all walk ahead of me. I smiled at the strange comfort of travel. Especially now, since no one was trying to kill me.

They all had the good sense to leave me with my thoughts.

_Comparing notes, _I thought, watching as Casavir laughed heartily. Gann talked with his hands, and some of his gestures were certainly distinctive enough that I could tell the gist of their conversation, even without hearing it.

_Of all the things in the world that I have seen, this ranks among the strangest. My once paladin lover, and my once lover hagspawn shaman_ _laughing and joking together like old friends. Perhaps I wasn't mad, loving two men so different on the outside. I didn't ever put much stock in looks anyway. It is what was beneath the skin that mattered. Eh, perhaps they weren't so different after all._

Each of the six nights between Crossroad Keep and Ahrvan, once we made camp and the fire was the only light besides the stars, Gann would disappear into the trees. Neeshka and Khelgar would make a show about fighting over who got to keep watch before they would wander to the edge of the light and fall silent.

Casavir and I would lay just outside the circle of firelight, clasped together. It became more than sex between us, more than making love. Sometimes, he would just lay there, unmoving, looking into my eyes, drinking me in. I hadn't told him what was to come, but it seemed that somehow, he knew this was our last journey together.

I hardly slept, but spent the night watching him and watching the trees, knowing that Gann was just beyond, and hurting. My whole life felt like the burning ache of a broken heart, like that hot swollen feeling in your eyes when you try not to cry.

On the seventh day, the bridge to Ahrvan passed beneath our feet and we climbed the hill to stand at the base of the first Statue of Purification. It looked much different than the last time I'd stood here. Time had finally caught up with the limestone face, and much of its features were washed away. Now that it's magic was spent, it was just a stone. Soft, feathery moss grew up the stone folds of the statue's gown and vines peeked through expanding cracks. We all stopped and stared for a while, knowing that the Temple was only moments away.

"This statue," Casavir said, "It looks . . . familiar. I don't know how that's possible, but I've been here before."

Khelgar and Neeshka looked at each other, but said nothing. I caught Neeshka's eyes for a moment. Despite her normal flippant regard for feelings, I could see my pain reflected there.

"You have," I said, turning back and looking at Casavir. I tried to catch his eyes, but he was staring intently at the statue. His face was so still, he might have been a statue as well. "And I think as we walk further, more and more will look that way."

"How do I remember this?" he asked.

"Because we're right where we need to be," I replied. "We're almost there."

Despite the earlier, joyous tone of our journey, no one spoke as we walked down the trail towards the Temple. It was deadly silent; it seemed the orcs and bugbears had moved on since we were last here. Grass and weeds grew up through the packed dirt of the trail. No one had been here in a time.

Over the crest of another small hill, the Temple of the Seasons came into view. The door was closed tightly, and unlike the statue at the entrance to the ruins, the Temple stone was still as clean and polished as the first time I saw it.

With much effort, Gann and Khelgar pushed the heavy stone door open. I could see through the entrance that the door to the Trial of Winter was still open, as well the door to the Trial of Spring beyond. There would be no need to fight our way through the trials again, although I would have welcomed it now.

"We will wait here," Gann said, setting his pack on the floor next to the bard statue in the center of the room. Neeshka plopped herself to the floor without speaking and suddenly became interested in cleaning under her fingernails with the tip of her dagger. Khelgar grunted, and dropped his pack, staring at Casavir and I. He didn't speak, but nodded his head once in our direction before crouching down and fumbling through his pack.

"Come with me," I said, offering Casavir my hand. He took it and we slowly walked through the door into the Trial of Winter. I should have been surprised by the ice still on the floor, or the flowers still blooming in darkness in the room that held the Trial of Spring. But it was all I could do to keep walking.

We passed through the Trial of Autumn and into the dusty silence of the tomb.

"Oh gods," Casavir gasped. "I know this place." His hands clutched at me and he spun me towards him. "I asked you . . . I asked you to . . . ," he stammered, his face pale and tight with fear.

"You did," I whispered. My mouth was dry, but I managed to continue. "But I couldn't. We couldn't find your body in the rubble. So they told me I had to be content in knowing that you'd died saving others, as you would have wanted."

Casavir's grip on my shoulders tightened and he took a deep shuddering breath.

"I just couldn't let you go," I admitted. "I never knew you'd vowed never to leave me, not unless I wished it. If only I could have accepted your _sacrifice_ you could have stayed in peace in the House of the Triad. But I was too selfish in my pain. I missed you so much." A tear slipped down my cheek. "I won't hurt you any more Casavir. I _love _you. I won't keep you from the glory you earned in life with my pain." My voice caught in my throat and I put my hand over my mouth. My face was hot, but my fingers were ice cold.

Casavir loosened his grip on my shoulders. His eyes clouded, and he pulled my hand from my face, taking both my frozen hands.

"Please . . . ," he whispered.

"I wish . . . I wish you peace my love," I said. "You can go on without me."

Once the words were said, Casavir wobbled and sunk to his knees. I followed, just barely managing to cradle him against me as he slumped to the floor. His eyes closed briefly and then flickered open.

Those perfectly pale blue eyes.

His scent rose up around me; copper, sweat and finally, sweet incense.

"My love," he said, his voice only a rasp. "I knew you would do what was just. I am only sorry we were not meant for this life together. But I will take your love with me, and in Tyr's halls, it will be eternal. Thank you my lady. I thank you for everything."

"May Tyr guide your steps," I murmured, leaning over to kiss him.

"And yours, my love. And yours," he said. "I . . . oh . . . ."

He fell silent. His eyes opened wide for a moment, and a sweet, peaceful washed over him. He took a half breath. And another.

And then he was still.

I stared, my head swimming, gasping for air. I struggled for a breath and screamed, the sound echoing through the stone halls, breaking the eerie silence until my throat was raw and I collapsed over him, my tears falling on to his cold, unmoving chest.


	8. Full Circle

I don't remember the journey back to Crossroad Keep, except as a wash of tears and pathetic fainting. They told me that Gann carried me most of the way, cradling me like breakable glass against his chest as we traveled the winding trail back to the keep. My only real memory is Gann's voice, singing in a language I didn't understand, dragging me back from nightmare upon nightmare.

I woke in my bed in the keep, the fire crackling in the hearth, soaked in sweat. For days, I never stepped out the door, refusing to eat and only drinking the bitter tea that was always on the desk when I woke.

I wrote feverishly on scraps of parchment, ranting and incoherent, and read Wind by the Fireside a thousand times.

"So as you shiver in the cold and the dark,  
Look into the fire and see in its spark--  
My eye  
Watching over you.

As you walk in the wind's whistling claws,  
Listen past the howling of the wolf's jaws.  
My song  
Comes to you.

And when you're lost in the trackless snow,  
Look up high where the eagles go.  
My star  
Shines for you.

In deep, dark mine or on crumbling peak,  
Hear the words of love I speak.  
My thoughts  
Are with you.

You are not forsaken.  
You are not forgotten.  
The North cannot swallow you.  
The snows cannot bury you.  
I will come for you.  
Faerun will grow warmer,  
And the gods will smile  
But oh, my love, guard yourself well--  
All this may not happen for a long, long while. "

I ranted. I wept.

I wrestled with my conscience; my guilt and my pain and came out on the other side, scoured clean. For the first time since the Duergar and Bladelings attacked West Harbor, so long ago, I felt a true sense of peace steal over me, like a cool, crisp wind.

I slept, and I dreamed.

When I finally woke, my head was clear and my heart, although tender, was still beating. Weak, but resolute, I managed to wash myself and dress for the first time in weeks. On unsteady legs, I pushed the door open and walked out. Hiding their surprise well, the Greycloak guards greeted me cordially as I slowly made my way through the hall and out the door.

It was sunset, and brilliant shades of orange and gold lit up the sky. Wisps of clouds, painted violet and grey, hung low on the horizon and the first stars glimmered in the deepening blue at the apex of the sky. I breathed deep. I wandered slowly down the hill toward the Phoenix, taking it all in, like it was the first time; The finely hewn stones of the inner wall, the wild flowers growing at the edge of the buildings, the crispness of the air that meant summer was fading.

With a smile, I pushed open the inn door. The place fell silent when I walked in. Gann, Khelgar and Neeshka sat at one of the rough, round tables, playing some dwarven dice game that Neeshka was sure to be winning. She _always_ cheated.

"The next round is on me," I said, grinning. Khelgar leapt to his feet and grabbed me by waist with one stocky arm.

"Its good to see you lass!" Neeshka didn't stand, but I could see the extra dice in her lap, and she couldn't bear to be caught, even if she was happy to see me. She smiled impishly and winked.

Gann stood up and a slow, sad smile spread across his face.

"Ah, you are here," he said.

"Hello Gann," I said, returning his smile. Khelgar ambled back to the table, as Gann walked towards me. He already had his pack in his hand.

"I am glad to see that you are well," he said softly, placing his hand on my shoulder. "So now it's time that I go."

"What?" I asked, shaking my head. "Why?"

"You know why," he said.

"No," I replied. "I don't. There's absolutely, no reason for you to leave. Unless . . . ."

"Unless what?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as he always did. There was familiar look in his eyes, one I knew better than I'd even imagine I could. Sacrifice. He gently brushed a strand of my hair away from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin for just a moment before he dropped his hand. His fingers tightened into a fist.

"Unless you are afraid," I said. "Of me."

"No, I'm afraid of myself," he said. Seeing the questioning look on my face, he continued. "How can I ever be anything but a reminder of what you have lost?"

"Gann, stop," I said. "Just for a moment. I, of all people, know how hard it is, but look past how much this has hurt, and listen. Your Dreamer's Heart. What does it tell you?"

"I will admit, I'm been afraid of that as well," he said.

"Stay tonight at least. Finish your game, have a drink with me, and tonight, dream," I asked him. "And tomorrow, if you still must go, I won't stop you."

"For _you_," he said. He put on his charismatic smile like a mask, and sat back down, patting the empty chair at the table next to him. I sat down, eagerly taking the mug of ale Sal offered me, and watched as Neeshka completely stole the game.

#

I dreamed.

This time, it wasn't my peaceful sanctum, but a valley in Rashemen, full of streams breaking into waterfalls and a red tree. I knew this place, Immil Vale. The Moss Stone stood tall in the middle of the valley, and Gann leaned against it, his feet crossed.

"I finally managed it," I said smiling.

"So it seems," he replied. He paused. "I wasn't sure you were going to come."

"I've never managed to walk in someone else's dreams, even yours, without your help before. Seems I'm learning."

"It takes time," he said. "But you are a fast learner."

"Everything does. Take time, that is," I said, reaching out to take his hand.

"I don't know." He looked away, staring at the red tree over my head. "I don't know if time can heal all wounds."

"I think it can," I said. I took a step closer. Gann's dreams were more vivid than mine were, and I could smell him as I moved closer. His scent was the wind, wood smoke, burning herbs. He looked back at me. I continued. "I have been so selfish. Horribly selfish. It nearly destroyed Casavir and you. Don't deny it, I have realized what an arse I've been. I won't tell you I've changed, Gann. Words are . . . words can destroy."

"Ah," he said, "There are words I do want to hear."

"I know," I said. "I only hope you can be patient enough to hear them, when the time comes."

"I . . . I have wasted much of my life, wondering, blaming . . . I don't want to do that again," he said. "I said to you, after I met my mother, that if I ever loved, I vowed to speak of it. And I have, but I said it would be the first vow of many."

"None of that please," I said. "I'm not asking for promises, just some time. I'd like you to come with me to West Harbor."

"Your home village?" he asked.

"I haven't been brave enough to go back since . . . well, since I saw it destroyed. But Daeghun has written to me, asking me to come home. And I think it's time."

"But why do you want me to join you?" Gann asked.

I looked at him mutely. I knew he was afraid of more pain, and I didn't blame him.

"Because I want to go _home_ Gann, and I've realized, that it won't be home unless you come with me."

"I'm not sure what to say," he said.

"Say yes."

#

It was the High Harvest Fair when we arrived. It seemed that my life was coming full circle. With the usual Harborman stubbornness they'd completely rebuilt the village. The laughter of children rang through the air. Children. It was a beautiful sound.

It was bittersweet though. Georg, Brother Merring, even my childhood rivals the Mossfelds were gone. But West Harbor soldiered on, as it always had. There was no Harvest Cup Competition this year, but a newly woven Harvest Cloak hung on the back of a wooden statue of Chauntea, waiting for the new generation to be old enough to earn it.

Daeghun was uncharacteristically emotional, hugging me fiercely, and Gann too even though they'd never met before.

"Thank you for bringing her home to me lad," Daeghun told him.

Gann and I shared ale, and joined in on the Harvest songs. We watched Tarmas cast spells to dazzle the children and sat up all night, reveling in it all.

As dawn approached and the last of the village finally settled in to sleep, I took Gann to the spot where the grass had never grown before; the spot where the Sword of Gith shattered and changed the path of my life forever. The blackened earth had faded away, and a patch of white flowers bloomed there. Flowers like I'd never seen before, blooming in the crisp morning air of autumn.

I took Gann's hands and looked up at him. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. I reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Things didn't turn out the way I planned," I said after a long silence.

"They rarely do," he replied.

"But they do turn out the way they should, I think." I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his neck. Tears stood out in his eyes; he was trembling.

"Perhaps they do," he whispered.

"You are a wonder, Gann-of-Dreams," I said. "And you're not just as a substitute for what I've lost. I know you don't believe in the gods, but I do. They only give us what we are meant to have. Now I don't worship Sune any more than I worship any other, but I think she's given me a gift. Something true, and good. She brought you into my life Gann and I'm not going to be so foolish a second time."

He closed his eyes, and sighed.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, leaning towards him and kissing him gently. "And no. Just like everything does, this dream will end too. But let's not waste the time we've been given with fear. I've had enough of that for a thousand lifetimes. I love you Gann, and I have since the moment I met you. I've just been too blind to see it."

"This _is_ a dream," he said, kissing me again, "If this is the other side of the gods, then perhaps I've been too hasty in my judgement of them." He grinned at me. "But don't get too excited, we hags are slow to change. Of course, that is not all an evil. Despite all, I love you still. You are the reason I breathe."

I sighed contentedly and clasped him tightly against me. I could feel the opposing rhythms of our hearts, and then slowly, the two beats fell into step together. A single pounding cadence. From this moment, until the end of our days, I knew it would be us. Us together against the world.

"I don't ever want to wake up," he said, as the sun broken over the horizon.


	9. A Long, Long While

Time passed. It always does. My life brought unimaginable joy as well as crushing pain. Gann and I were married, not long after our first trip to West Harbor. Although Crossroad Keep was our home, we'd been back often since. I had no idea how happy I would be. Gann was always a source of love, comfort and humor in a life that had been sorely lacking in all three. He was everything I never even knew I wanted.

But our marriage brought its share of pain too. We were never quite able to get a real answer for why, but no matter what the reason, we'd not been able to have children. We had Wolf and his friends, and they become our children, but never any of our own. And the gods knew we'd tried. That was one prayer Sune never answered for us. Gann blamed his blood; I blamed my hard life and the spirit-eater curse. In the end, it didn't matter, the result was the same.

Even with that pain, my life was good. I had friends, a home, and love . . . love I think neither of us expected.

Up until then, I'd lived in a whirlwind of adrenaline and quick decisions. I found love and lost it just as quickly. I'd never known a love like this before. Once the initial giddiness wore off, as it must, it deepened into a comfortable connection. It was sweet, calm thing that stood like a tree in a storm. Strong enough to not be broken by the winds because it was flexible enough to bend.

But time is a cruel master. Eventually, we had more to blame Gann's blood for. We honestly weren't sure how long a hagspawn could live. Most died young in service to their mothers, and other than himself, Gann had not known many of his own kind. And he was older than he looked.

When we'd met in Rashamen, he'd just had his 52nd birthday. Night hag blood was a powerful thing. But although he never seemed to age as I did, on a dark winter night, when I was now 52 and 22 years since he'd come to the Sword Coast, age finally caught up to Gann.

He looked the same on the outside, true, but his body had aged inside even more than mine had on the outside. My hair was streaked with white, my face was lined, but he didn't seem to see any of that as I sat by his bedside. He tried to smile, but grimaced. He was in pain all the time now. It broke my heart that I couldn't help him. Age had made me even more emotional than I'd been in my youth, and although I tried to be strong, tears fell anyway.

"Do not cry, love," he said, his voice a raspy whisper. "I will be safe; you've seen to that."

"I know," I replied, running my hand over his face. His skin was cold. Too cold.

"Who'd have ever thought I'd learn to believe in those gods of yours? But Tymora . . . she's been with me all along, and I just hadn't realized it," he said softly. I smiled.

Lady Luck. She certainly had been. He'd survived being abandoned to the wilds, living in a place that saw him only as a threat. He found love, despite incredible odds. So she'd become his patron. After learning so much about the higher planes, I'd tried very hard to accept her too, so we could be together when our lives had ended. But I couldn't, no matter what I did. Gann had come to accept that too.

"I know my time is coming," he continued. "And I don't mind so much. I've had more of a life than any hagspawn ever had. More than this poor hagspawn deserved anyway."

"Hush," I whispered. "You've earned every moment of it. You are a good man Gann."

"Only because you've made me so," he said. He reached up and put his finger across my lips before I could speak. His hands too were so very cold. "Do not say I have done it myself. I know you, you'll want none of the credit. But it is yours nonetheless. Your love, and my love for you, it healed me. That is how I am as I am. I want you to know . . . ."

His words were halted by a fit of coughing. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes squeezed shut. A shudder of pain wracked him. When he finally stopped and pulled his hand away it was stained with blood.

"Oh Gann," I sobbed, leaning over to embrace him. His arms wrapped around me. "How will I live without you?"

"You'll never be without me," he said. "I will always be with you."

#

Gann died that night. In the darkest hours before dawn, he'd breathed his last. The pain of that was crushing, but surprisingly bearable. I'd learned long ago that nothing doesn't change. And I knew that Gann was safe. We'd had a wonderful life together I didn't want to lessen its joy by weeping forever. I didn't want to make the same mistakes Daeghun had, crawling so deep inside myself that I couldn't see the sun.

So I went on. I'd long retired from any foolish notion of running the keep, although I was still treated as such. I let those younger than me do the actual work now. I was tired. Very tired.

Although I accepted things as they were, I felt like something was missing. I had prayed to many different gods over the years, but I'd never chosen one for myself. I wasn't false, I prayed in earnest, but I often wondered what would happen to me when I died. What would Kelemvor's judgement be of one such as me?

I found myself going to the Temple of Tyr more and more often. I was coming to understand why Casavir had dedicated his life to him. There was a tranquility to knowing what was right and what was wrong, what was just and what was an injustice. The Even Handed. I found a peace there that I could find nowhere else.

I found new joy in the young clerics and paladins. Their enthusiasm for life and for Tyr was like a shining light. So much of it in Casavir's name, and strangely in Gann's as well. He was very well loved, not just for being the husband of the savior of Neverwinter, but on his own merit. They knew he'd found a chaotic lady for his patron, and although most couldn't understand the choice, they loved him anyway.

I always loved to have them tell me stories about how he'd encourage them, play games of wit and sarcasm laced liberally with love. I had many a happy hour listening alternately to prayers and funny tales. I knew I'd lived my life well.

And again, time slipped by like a shadow. Fleeting and too swiftly lost in the approaching twilight. Not many years, true, but I knew I wasn't to be so lucky as Gann to have a long life. I knew with no uncertainty that I wouldn't live to see my 60th winter. Something was growing inside of me that even the clerics could not halt, and each day it took a little more until I was only a shell of what I'd once been.

I knelt before the altar in the temple. It was past midnight and I was alone. I knew the clerics would have been angry to see my out of my bed, but I knew there was so little time left, and I didn't want to waste it staring at the ceiling over my bed. I'd rather kneel here, fighting the pain, and stare at the face of Tyr so I could feel at peace.

So long ago, I'd spent a night like this. Pondering my life in a temple, with Tyr watching over me. My friends had come to me that night, offering help and kind words to help me prepare for the coming battle with Lorne. And Casavir had come and offered me his sword, and in unspoken words his heart too, long before he'd had the courage to speak them. Or I had. I smiled at my youthful foolishness now. I'd long ago stopped regretting the choices I'd made. I was happy with how my life had blossomed. There was no place for regret in a well lived life.

But I was so tired.

I leaned forward and rested my head against the cool stone steps and closed my eyes. Even with them closed, I could still feel Tyr's benevolent gaze watching over me. I drifted. Sleep and something deeper was waiting.

#

At first, darkness. Silence.

Then light. A more brilliant light than I'd ever seen, coming from nowhere and everywhere. A warm breeze. And then, blue skies and mountains. Impossibly beautiful in shades of violet and dove grey, capped with perfect pristine white snow. The sound of singing.

A slow smile spread over my face. I knew this place, although I'd never seen it. Mount Celestia.

I looked around, and then looked at my hands. Gone were the thin spotted hands I'd worn, replaced by the smooth skin of youth. I touched my face. The lines that had become so familiar were erased, as if time had never ravaged me.

I heard a voice coming from behind me. As first, couldn't understand the words, but they slowly got louder and I could make them out. Very familiar words indeed.

". . . You are not forsaken.  
You are not forgotten.  
The North cannot swallow you.  
The snows cannot bury you.  
I will come for you.  
Faerun will grow warmer,  
And the gods will smile  
But oh, my love, guard yourself well--  
All this may not happen for a long, long while."

The voice was soothing, deep and male. And something else. I took a deep breath, but didn't move to face the man I knew was standing behind me.

"But now," the voice continued. "That time has finally come."

I felt no fear. There was no courage to gather to turn. But I wanted this moment to last, and the next moment. That one too I'd want forever. And here, in Elysium, it would last forever. A reward for a life well lived. My heart was near to bursting. I thought of Gann, my heart swelled. I thought of Daeghun, Elanee, Neeshka and Khelgar. I thought of even Bishop and I forgave him as I never really had before.

No pain, no sorrow. Only joy, and love. Slowly, I turned around.

Silver armor. A blue cloak, blowing in incense sweet wind. And perfectly pale blue eyes, smiling at me as if no time or pain had ever passed between us.

"Welcome to the House of the Triad," Casavir said. "Welcome home."


End file.
